


Voyeuristic Intentions

by RosevalleyNB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Peeping, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was so wrong. A very, very wrong thing to do. The last time he had done this, he had a stern talking to by his father and a painful kick in the arse by Mr Bell. If caught again, neither man would go easy on him, he was sure of it. </p><p>Perhaps, he should have kissed his mother farewell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeuristic Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Anything recognisable belongs to their rightful owners. I'm still not JK Rowling, unfortunately.

His heart nearly pounded out his chest as sweat poured down his back in droves and the drumming in his ears made it feel as if they were going to implode. This was so wrong. This was a very, very wrong thing to do. Merlin, he was going to hell for this, he knew it. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to turn around and that’s what made it so much worse.

 

He nervously glanced around to make sure no one was around. Passers-by were highly unlikely on the dead-end dirt path this time of night. The path only led to two houses, his parents' and the Bells at the end of it, but better to be safe than sorry as they say.

 

The last time he had done this, last summer, Mr Bell had caught him and had dragged him to his father by one ear. His father had scolded him whilst Mr Bell stood by, and later, the man had kicked his the arse. If caught again, neither man would go easy on him; he was sure of it. Perhaps, he should have kissed his mother farewell.

 

Last year, it had been an accident. He had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and had stared a tad too long at a Katie Bell rubbing oil all over her body. It hadn't been his fault, though. She had started it in the first place. 

 

For weeks, little Katie Bell had tormented him, walking around in the back garden in those Muggle bathing costumes things that had barely covered her arse and tits. Not to mention those short skirts and tight vests she had worn each time she had passed his house with swaying hips and bouncing tits, which she had done quite a lot. Pass, sway, and bounce that is.

 

Back then, he had felt some guilt but now, she was back from Hogwarts for good and no longer a schoolgirl, he tried to justify. He just wanted to see if she had changed over the past year, he fooled himself. Have a quick peek.

 

A swift twirl of his wand and a hastily muttered Disillusionment Charm later, unaware it hadn't taken, he hovered before her window. He was close enough to touch the glass if he reached out. Katie stood with her back to him, wearing nothing but a tiny towel, and combing her wet hair in front of the mirror.

 

Marcus groaned in disappointment; he would have given his left leg to see her shower. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had to work with what he had, which wasn’t all too bad, he soon learnt. With each new stroke of her comb, the towel crept up, exposing lower parts of her perfect bum. His cock twitched eagerly in his trousers at the realisation that she was starkers underneath the piece of cloth.

 

Marcus shifted uncomfortably on his broom; his erection demanded immediate freedom to have a look for itself. He wouldn't, he couldn't, of course. Getting caught peeping was one thing; getting caught wanking and peeping would surely be the end of him.

 

Before his worries could overtake and make him do the right thing, they disappeared the moment Katie suddenly dropped her towel and slowly turned around.

 

“Hoh,” was his stunned reaction.

 

Her naked body required all his attention, distracting him from the sly grin on her face. Her round breasts seemed to call out to him and her toned stomach begged to be peppered with kisses all the way down to the small strip of hair dipping between…

 

“Hoh,” he uttered again and blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

 

No, he wasn't. She was really cupping her breast, gently squeezing it as her other hand glided down her stomach. Lower and lower until her fingers rested on that small tuft of dark hair. Marcus licked his lips and reached out, his hand optically covering hers. Maybe, no matter how unlikely, she needed some assistance and he could help her out with him being a gentleman and all.

 

The cool glass under his fingertips was a cruel reminder of the barrier between them. However, that didn't matter for too long. He was about to cry out in joy when her fingers dipped between her legs and she arched her back, pushing out her breasts even more.

 

Marcus' breathing became ragged as he unbuckled his belt. Dammit, he was a healthy young man with needs, consequences be damned. Unfortunately, before he could tug his trousers down enough to free his cock, a minor disturbance arose.

 

"Katie, are you dressed, love?"

 

He recognised Mr Bell's voice, even muffled by a door and glass. The man had screamed hard enough in his ear last year that he still woke up at nights at the echoes of his cusses. For the briefest second, Marcus locked eyes with Katie, both staring at each other in sheer panic. Whereas she quickly poised herself and wrapped the towel around her body again, Marcus lost his balance when he tried to buckle his trousers and tumbled down to the ground. He landed with a stifled 'oomph' on his back in the bushes.

 

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, breathing hard in worry that he had just signed his death sentence. Any minute now, Mr Bell was going to storm outside and blast him into a million pieces just as he had promised last year. For a long time, he stared at the stars to take in their beauty for the last time and waited for his doom, all the while cursing himself for his recklessness.

 

When he heard his name whispered after a while, he believed that he had already died and was strangely grateful for his painless end. Most likely, hearing his name in her voice was some sort of afterlife punishment for peeping into a young girl's room. He could live with that.

 

Then he heard it again.

 

“Psst, Flint, are you still there?” Bell's soft voice wafted through the night's air. When he didn't answer fast enough, she called out again. It was still nothing more than a whisper but still much louder than the first few times.

 

“Flint? If you're there, my dad went to bed. You can come out now.”

 

Marcus debated on what to do. It could be very well a trick on Mr Bell's part to lure him out and rip his head off. The man used to wrestle Hippogriffs for fun, after all. Then again, even if he ignored the voice and snuck away, his broom was still up there. It wouldn't take long for the old codger to figure to who it belonged to if Katie didn't hide it. Worse, she might keep it for herself.

 

“That's a pity,” she said disappointed, “I'd hoped you could help me out some, ah, handiwork. I'm not sure if I'm doing it right. Oh, well.”

 

"Wot?" Marcus slightly turned his head towards her window. Katie was leaning out, her long dark hair swaying in the wind and her upper half covered, unfortunately. He couldn't make out her expression in the dark, but he was sure she was grinning down at him.

 

“Wot?” he repeated. He was aware that he probably sounded as stupid as most people thought he was, but that was the least of his worries right now. Had he cracked his skull and now was imaging things?

 

“I’ve put up Silencing Charms if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

He patted his forehead. No, it didn't hurt nor was he bleeding.

 

“Help me out. I know you want to.” She pushed his broom down. “The window closes in thirty seconds; it's up to you.”

 

Marcus had never moved so fast in his life as he did at that moment.

 

Only hours later, as the summer sun was about to rise and he flew home blissfully satisfied, it occurred to him that she had known he had been there despite the charm he had put on himself. She had known and instead of screaming bloody murder, she had dropped her towel.

 

A longing sigh escaped at the realisation that she was just perfect and even more perverted than he was. His crotch still throbbed with exhaustion and he was sure that he had pulled a muscle or two. Still, he couldn't wait for later that day; she had promised to walk past his house and show off her newest Muggle clothing.

 

Hot pants and a tube top, whatever they were. He could only hope they were as naughty to look at she had made them out to be.


End file.
